Tomorrow's Red Dawn
by Lord of the Saiyans
Summary: The Digimon King stands posed to take on the Digi-World with one final strike, all resistance is scattered, anyone who defied him fallen. Now, on the eve of war, his most loyal Digimon look back on the past -- and contemplate the future.
1. Night of Sorrow

AN: This fanfic is the start of a collaboration between myself and several other authors. This chapter itself has been written by me and edited by SaturnMillennium. This has been put together by the good people at Digimania.

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The biting wind howled as it beat itself against the impressively sized fortress of polished stone which stood guard at the pass between the two mountains. Thick hails of rain struck futilely against the stone walls, splattering themselves into oblivion as they soaked the earth around it. A few trees grew up around the fort, and via them, one would gain an accurate depiction of it's size.

It was massive – not massive in a human way, but massive so that even the tallest Digimon would be able to fit within. It's gate was reinforced with sparkling Digizoid, making it incredibly strong. Teams of weaker Digimon patrolled the walls, in twos or threes they looked out, squinting into the darkness in search of any threat which might appear.

Lightening played across the sky, dancing it's ancient dance as it has since time immortal. The sonorous booms of thunder echoed and reverberated through the fortress. Deep inside the walls of stone, there was a library. It looked like it had been made for a giant – the room, walls and even books were bigger than the tallest man and the door was big enough to allow access to even a the biggest MetalGreymon.

A crackling fire burned in the fireplace -- trees had been fed to it to keep it alight and as they slowly blackened. The heat warmed the room and the sole occupant therein. He was a giant, and at first glance, anyone would know that the library had been made for him. He could almost be a DarkTyrannomon, but then one would start to notice the difference. His left arm ended in four fingers, each topped with a razor-sharp claw for slashing and cutting. His right arm was missing, it had been replaced with a metallic bionic one. The machine arm was seamless, silver, and no scratch showed upon it's highly polished surface. No lights, signs, or words marred it's perfect form. It gave off an eerie glow in this near-dark. A single wire protruded from the elbow and connected to the giant's back. The fore cast it's flickering light over him, making half-formed shapes dance and jump before vanishing back to the void of none-existence. His teeth were sharp, white – and the glow of the fire made them even more menacing. His eyes were old and wise.

He was standing with his back to the door, his dinosaur-like tail absent-mindedly swishing from side to side as he looked out of the window and into the storm outside. The savage winds howled and even down here, he could hear the booming thunder as it echoed across the night sky. He was LordTyrannomon, one of the three Royal Generals, and one of the most feared beings in the Digi-World. Tonight, despite the raging weather outside, he knew that it was the calm before the true storm. He had served the King for many years now. It was his duty to serve his Lord. LordTyrannomon was perhaps the only one of the Royal Generals to have a sense of honor – to know right from wrong and to struggle to do right despite all the obstacles placed in his way.

Lightening flashed briefly, casting his face in a sinister light. The thin finger of light faded out slowly and LordTyrannomon mused upon it. It was like him, it struggled to make itself known, to stand out from the blackness of it's fellows, and yet it was slowly consumed by them until it too was no more and only darkness remained. That was he, fading into the night. He had once shone so brightly, like that lightening. He had been a hero, or so he thought. It was getting so much harder to remember the past. Probably meddling from CurseDevimon, as he always did like to play mind-tricks even with the other generals.

The ultimate level Digimon sighed to himself. He felt old tonight and his bones were weary for so long spent in the service of the King. He had seen too much blood and death, he had led far too many armies, slaughtered too many defenseless Digimon. He could never be forgiven. He wished with all his heart – his very soul, that he could end it all. That when he woke up tomorrow, he would once more be Tyrannomon, or even DarkTyrannomon, and this whole kingdom would have only been a dream. But no, it was as real as it could be.

He felt a bitter taste in his mouth as he remembered all the bloody conflicts he had won for the King. How he wished with all his heart that he could travel time and right those wrongs, and yet he knew that if he ever had that chance, he would not take it.

It wasn't that LordTyrannomon was evil, or untrustworthy. In fact, it was totally opposite of that. LordTyrannomon was loyal. He was in the service of the Lord, his King. He could not betray the King, no matter how much blood he was ordered to shed, nor how much suffering he was forced to bring because he would never turn on the King.

Honor, that was it. He let out a bitter laugh, look where honor had gotten him now. He was one of the three generals responsible for overrunning eighty percent of the Digital World. He was nothing but a puppet to be used by the King, and yet his own d**n honor would force him to obey. The King knew it, the other generals knew it. It was a curse to him, for the other two generals were nothing but brutes! CurseDevimon lived for pain, tormenting his victims to death. WarLeomon, well his name implied exactly what he lived for. War, battle. Nothing mattered to him but bloodshed and death. They were both lower than dirt, in LordTyrannomon's opinion. He may have been forced to serve the King, but those two did it out of their own free will. And the King, oh the King.... LordTyrannomon was loyal and honorable andhe had given his word to serve the King until death. And that's what he would do. And yet, even now, LordTyrannomon could not help but look back at what the King had once been – it was so hard to remember, the mists of time seeming to have descended upon his memory. With an effort, LordTyrannomon recalled an image – it had been years ago. Back before the virus attacked him and he was still simply Tyrannomon, not LordTyrannomon, MasterTyrannomon or even DarkTyrannomon. Simply Tyrannomon. How he longed for those days. How he wished they would come again, but he knew they wouldn't.

Come tomorrow, the Digi-World would never truly be the same again. Tomorrow... the exact thing that had started this train of memories in the first place. LordTyrannomon shuddered despite himself, tomorrow would mark the beginning of the campaign to oust the rebels from this world. There would be no mercy – there never was – and it could only end with the King victorious and the rebels scattered to the four winds.

Unbidden, his mechanical hand traced a long scar he had received during his last clash with the rebels and the memory rose within his foggy mind as he sighed. Reliving again and again, the final battle of Andromon. Andromon had been a thorn in the side of the Kingdom for as long as it had existed. He had been one of the Digimon to fight the Dark Masters, and he fancied himself a hero. He had been the first to openly fight the Kingdom and even as the various parts of the Digital World fell to the King's armies. Andromon had not relented and had pressed onwards, garnering a rebellion which still troubled the King to this very day. The three generals had been dispatched to take care of him, and to their shock, Andromon had turned out to be far more powerful than they imagined.

LordTyrannomon could not help but smirk slightly as he remembered the utter beating that Andromon and his small group of soldiers had given the generals. They had tracked him down to a small city ,formed from the data of a factory, and the buildings were tall and bland. It was a perfect ambush and only LordTyrannomon had seen it as such – the others didn't listen to him, of course, but at least later they couldn't say he hadn't warned them.

Andromon had struck rapidly, a dozen Guardromon had closed ranks, coming from nowhere and used a barrage of missiles to confuse and disorient the generals. True to his nature, WarLeomon had leapt forward first. His savage cry echoing through the city. He had aimed for a Guardromon, and thus Andromon's Lightening Blade attack had taken him by surprise. A direct hit to the head had been enough to render WarLeomon unconscious. LordTyrannomon had been impressed to say the least. Andromon had picked his spot well, the tall buildings obscured their view and the android could make his movements far more rapidly than they. WarLeomon was the most agile of their group, and thus he was the first one to go. CurseDevimon was next, taken from behind by a surprise attack. LordTyrannomon had been last, his arm reconfiguring into the Nova Cannon. It's red orbs of power blowing away buildings as he fought to create an area big enough for him to move in.

It had been a long fight and hard fight. LordTyrannomon could still remember the pain from all the small wounds he had taken, but neither he or Andromon remained unharmed. Eventually, Andromon had ended the battle. His Lightening Blade attack cutting a long, deep wound into LordTyrannomon's arm and the pain and shock had immobilized him. When he could at last see again through the red haze, Andromon had been standing upon his head, blade ready to cut down and with a single move, finish LordTyrannomon.

He could still remember, the feeling of those metallic feet on his nose, and the conversation that had ensued.

" Give up." Andromon had said. His eyes had been focused on LordTyrannomon's. They held little love for battle, and this had endeared him to the dinosaur Digimon.

" I didn't think you'd give that option to one of us." growled LordTyrannomon, he struggled to gather his energy for an attack. By this point of the battle, he was pretty much on empty because the fight had raged for a period of time.

" I wouldn't normally." Said Andromon, his tone even, " But you are different than the others. You seem to have regrets about what has happened, so join me, and make up for your sins. Help us, there is still time to make up for what you have done."

LordTyrannomon couldn't say that he hadn't been tempted, for a split second. Could he betray his code, his honor, his very essence? But no, he decided just as quickly, not even now with redemption looking him in the eye, and death the only option if he refused. Not even now could he betray his King.

" You will have to kill me." Said LordTyrannomon sadly, " I will not betray my liege."

Andromon nodded, as if he understood – how could he possibly understand? And said, " Then may you be reborn in a better place, my friend."

The use of that word had shocked LordTyrannomon to the core – friend? How could he be a friend to Andromon, who had dedicated his life to bringing down the Kingdom? How could this good Digimon possibly consider him a friend?

Andromon's Lightening Blade had begun to power up, and LordTyrannomon closed his eyes in preparation for the killing strike. It had never come, for at this very second, the King swept from the shadows.

This had shocked LordTyrannomon, almost as much as being called friend. For the King rarely, if ever, left his castle, and to think that he had followed – it was then that LordTyrannomon realized the King's plan. He had never expected them to defeat Andromon. They were only there to draw him out so that the King could take him himself.

The resulting battle had been epic to say the least, but it could only have one outcome really. In the end, Andromon was overcome by an energy blast, and the King had taken little more than a scratch.

That mission was supposed to have broken the back of the rebels. To have demoralized them, in effect, to break them so that they could be defeated at the King's pleasure. It had not worked. The rebels had, if anything, grown more determined. Rumor even said that Andromon had been recovered. Broken and beaten, but alive. And that he had Digivolved to a higher form.

LordTyrannomon hoped this was so, for despite his loyalty to the King, he found himself admiring Andromon, both as a person and as a leader. This brought him all the way back to tomorrow's campaign. The rebels were brave fighters, and he had to admit that he held respect for them. But this was the end, Andromon or no, they would not be able to survive.

Lightening played across the sky in a patch-work of glowing veins. He fell back to musing. Yes, this was the end of the rebellion, and after that, the fifteen percent of the Digi-World not yet under the King's direct control. It would have been over by now, but for the the Chosen Digimon.

The Digimon partnered to the Digi-Destined had been prime opponents of the King, and even now none of them had fallen in battle. The worst of the bunch – the three most painful thorns in their side, MetalGreymon, who liked to lead attacks and counter attacks, where his massive strength and savage power could be put to it's best use. WereGarurumon, his speed and agility made him near impossible to catch, and he used this to his advantage on the many stealth-missions that the rebels required. Finally, MagnaAngemon, who was the most troublesome of the three. His very presence seemed able to inspire nearby Digimon and his healing powers, as well as his incredible offensive abilities made him a deadly foe, who could rally flagging troops to acts of bravery enough to turn even the most certain of the King's victories into defeat.

It would be much worse, LordTyrannomon thought, if they could have contacted their partners. Luckily, they could do no such thing. The first act of the King upon attaining his full power had been to cast his shadows -- forming a powerful barrier between the Digital World and the Real One. The Chosen Digimon were powerful, and they had skill with them, but even they could not turn the tide of this war – In the next nine days, they would be hard-pressed to survive, let alone win.

LordTyrannomon knew that their ultimate victory was near. What they had fought, bled, and struggled for was nearly within reach. The Kingdom had almost been constructed properly. Yet, he did not feel good, or happy. He felt a weary numbness. He looked out into the lashing rain. The war would begin again in earnest tomorrow. Entire legions would move at his command and he would be the one to devise strategy. It would be him leading the King's armies. His hand would be the one to conquer the Digital World. A long time ago, he would have been eager for this – not to conquer, but for the challenge. The sheer joy of testing himself against the greatest military minds in the Digi-World.

Now, he felt only empty and alone. Lighting struck again. Yes, tomorrow he would do his duty and he would follow his orders. Doubtless he would kill thousands. He wished it could be another way, any other way, even if he were dead. But there was no choice. He was here and his orders were simple. His honour commanded him to carry them out to the best of his ability and he would do so.

Rain lashed down, and as he looked through the window, he wondered if he would ever truly find forgiveness.


	2. Hunter's Joy

WarLeomon.

The lush trees of the forest swayed rhythmically in the harsh wind of the story. The tortured creeks and cracks filled the forest and the rain beat heavily upon the ground, soaking him to the skin even through his fur.

WarLeomon didn't particularly care about the rain. His blood ran hot, his nostrils tingled with the scent of his prey as he leap nimbly from tree branch to tree-branch. The trees were massiv. Ancient and impressive, they towered over him and their many branches absorbed even the brightest light, leaving nothing but darkness to filter down from the sky above. It was night, the stars were out, though he couldn't see them. Even WarLeomon's enhanced senses were having some trouble picking a way through the forest, so that he had to judge each jump carefully, lest he plummet to the ground and risk alerting his prey.

WarLeomon came to a halt by a tree trunk, looking around it was close now he could feel it in his bones. The hunter's instinct was screaming at him to pounce upon it, to rip and tear it's flesh from the bone. He longed to feel it's body break under his blows, the wet blood upon his fists, but he would wait and search. He hunt and he would have his preyl, even if it took him all night, he would have his prey.

WarLeomon was an impressive looking Digimon. He stood at around average height for a Leomon, but that was where the similarity faded. The fur which covered him was dark as the night, helping him to blend in with the shadowy forest. His eyes were red and angry, portals into the churning mass of anger, hatred and rage that was his soul. His mane was longer than that of his good counterpart, falling half-way down his back. War-paint had been streaked across his face, forming red lines and making his face look as if it had been smeared with blood; that suited WarLeomon just fine. Lastly, his knife was warped. Not the true, straight weapon favored by most champion-level Leomon, the ultimate-level WarLeomon welded a curved blade, it's edges jagged and stained with blood.

He could hear the distant crashes of thunder, muted by the layers of thick canopy that separated him from the sky, but it caused him some annoyance, as they were distracting enough to cause him to lose track of his prey. This combined with the heavy rain which was washing away the scent, made it seem that nature herself was on it's side.

He smirked chillingly. Sharp teeth capable of cutting through flesh and bone with equal ease glinting in the light. Yes, that suited him just fine, the harder the hunt, the more worthy his eventual victory. He landed on the ground with a soft thud – being careful so as to cause the minimum sound possible, and then he peered at the soaked ground. Yes, foot-prints, he was in luck.

Perfect. Cautiously he followed this new trail, trusting in his own camouflage and his agility to prevent him from being spotted before he was ready, WarLeomon moved silently towards his target.

He had been hunting so long that the chase was more than just that; it was a way of life. It was one of two things that he lived for. And tomorrow's dawn would bring plenty of the second– bloodshed, death, war . He gloried in these things. While other, lesser Digimon cringed from battle, he engaged in it joyfully, trusting to his blade, his claws and his strength to protect him and to spill the blood of his enemies. They had never failed him before, and he did not expect them to do so now.

War, blood, battle. Even the thought of it got his blood pumping. How could he have ever lived any other way? He owed the King for showing him the true value of life – nothing. Life was meaningless, and thus WarLeomon saw nothing wrong with ending it. He could still recall what it had been like before he became what he was now.

As a Leomon, he had been just like all the others; honest, noble, pathetic. He had genuinely believed that he was doing good by defying the King, and attempting to kill him as his Kingdom continued to grow. What a fool he had been. There was no good, only different shades of evil, and if that was the case, what harm was there in being the darkest shade of them all? He loved carnage; it was his lot in life, his entire purpose for existing reduced to a single action: kill. He slaughtered for the King, who had shown him the way. In a strange, twisted way, he was still as duty-bound as ever. WarLeomon had to smirk at this. It was true enough, he served the King because the King had opened his eyes to the true nature of the world.

Lightning flashed overhead, the brilliant light slashing down through a small hole in the canopy. WarLeomon ignored it; he was far too busy to be bothered with the likes of that. Yes, he had once been weak, but now he was strong. He had once been merciful, but no more. Was he better this way? Of course he was. He owed so much to the King, and even if he could serve him for all eternity it would still not be enough. The King was wise as well as honest, and he used WarLeomon for exactly what he loved. WarLeomon was a berserker, a killer, a hunter. He could always be found on the front lines – where the fighting was at its fiercest. He was also one of the Royal Generals, and therefore had his own domains and lands within the Kingdom, including this forest.

He spotted movement ahead; he grinned, and crept closer. Yes, there it was. His prey. DarkTyrannomon. It was healthy and powerful, looking around warily as if it expected him -- of course it expected him, but it couldn't see him, and it wouldn't. Not until he wanted it to, not until it was far too late.

He felt his bloodlust rising, his used his right hand to draw his blade, and prepared himself, judging the distance between his prey and he. He would be able to make it with a single leap, his blade could slash the throat of that monster in a split-second, and then it would be over.

He knew that his fellow general, CurseDevimon, would not let it end so quickly, CurseDevimon would probably draw it out, torment the DarkTyrannomon. He would drink in its suffering and pain. But WarLeomon was not like that; he took lives of course, but he did not draw it out. There was no fun in watching a victim suffer. The true joy of combat came in those crucial seconds before the first blow was struck, when all the things that could go wrong flashed before the hunter's mind, and yet they never did go wrong, the timing was always perfect, the attack was always without fail. That was what it meant to fight. To see an enemy and to see in his face that he knew you were going to kill him, and that he couldn't stop you. To feel and see blood flow from a fresh wound that he had just inflicted. That was what battle and war was about, that was what he lived for.

Tomorrow, he would have more than his share of blood. He would march with the armies as always. He would meet any resistance head on, and destroy it, crushing it utterly and leaving no one alive to report back. His King deserved to rule over this Digital-World, and WarLeomon would fight to the death for him to do so.

Would the others be there? CurseDevimon would almost certainly be somewhere, his desire to cause pain and suffering for others would drive him to the coming battle as surely as a moth to a flame. His winged form would be a rallying point for all fallen angel Digimon in the Kng's armies. Bah, CurseDevimon was no better than any other soldier, to WarLeomon's mind. As a champion level, he was the weakest of the three generals, and even the King did not trust him fully. How could a person trust someone who lived to cause pain, suffering and misery? He was nothing but a weapon to be pointed at the enemy and let loose but certainly not to be trusted with lands or a title. And yet, that was what the King had granted him. WarLeomon assumed his liege knew what he was doing; besides, it wasn't his place to think, only to act.  
LordTyrannomon, now that was a name both deadly and untouchable. LordTyrannomon was the second of the generals, and while his combat power wasn't as high as WarLeomon's, he made up for it with cunning plans, strategies and tactics to confound, confuse and defeat his foes. The King kept him around due to his brilliant planning – and it was thanks to him more than any other general that so much of the Digi-World was in their grasp. WarLeomon didn't trust him; he reminded the virus Digimon too much of what he had himself once been like. Even now, in the service of their shared master , LordTyrannomon still could not bring himself to believe that there was no good, mercy or honor and that these things had only ever existed as ideas, never real things that could be held, touched and protected. He was honour-bound, and his service to the King was more from a sense of duty than loyalty. The King knew this – the King knew everything, but he kept LordTyrannomon around. WarLeomon assumed it was part of some master plan that all would one day be revealed.

"Enough thinking" WarLeomon whispered to himself as he hovered in the shadows, observing the DarkTyrannomon. All these thoughts would have to wait; he lived for the here and now. If the King told him that the other generals were no threat to him, then they were no threat to him. No ifs, or buts about it. He was here and this was now. There was prey before him, blissful and innocent in its ignorance of his presence. That could soon be fixed. He steadied his blade. Looking out from the the shadows, sizing up the DarkTyrannomon. A single good slash to the throat would be sufficient to kill this monster.

The dinosaur-like Digimon stiffened, as if it had sensed him, but it was far too late now, he was already moving. His thick muscles bunching and with a grunt, he launched himself from the shadows, brandishing his knife. DarkTyrannomon saw him coming of course, and he reacted faster than WarLeomon had anticipated, swinging his massive tail around and smashing it into the fallen-warrior Digimon.

With a gasp of pain and shock, WarLeomon fell to the ground rolling to reduce the shock of impact, years of battlefield experience taking over. DarkTyrannomon towered above him with a roar, his eyes rolling back into his skull with madness, the virus within him sending a single command over and over with ever increasing urgency: Kill. He roared again, fire spewing from his open mouth. WarLeomon moved, jumping into the air before the fiery torrent struck the ground where he had been.

He moved fast enough that DarkTyrannomon was taken by surprise and with a savage bellow of his own, WarLeomon began his descent. His blade poised to cut into the flesh of his enemy. DarkTyrannomon reared up, as if attempting to smash WarLeomon out of the air, but it was too slow. WarLeomon simply adjusted his fall, landing on the dinosaur's back with a grunt.

DarkTyrannomon buckled, trying to shake the annoying pest off his back. He seemed to be in a killing rage, no reason or logic left over by the frantic demands of the virus. WarLeomon struggled to his feet, the constant motion was making it hard for him to keep steady, but he was stable enough. Aiming his fist at where the dinosaur's spine would be buried under its thick skin, he cried out, feeling the dark energy of his soul rush towards his fist in preparation for his signature attack.

"Fist of the Dark King!"

What emerged from his hand was not the roaring head of a proud lion, its mane forming the trail of golden energy. It was a dark face, a skull, surrounded by a nimbus of black power. It didn't roar, it shrieked. An earsplitting cry of anguish inviting only destruction, death and misery.

The dark skull slammed straight into the spine, digging into the skin with hellish strength, it half-buried itself in the flesh before exploding with a deafening bang, WarLeomon had already leapt by this point -- but the spray of blood and flesh still struck him, and he delighted in it. The dark blood stained his fur and face, chunks of skin, muscle and bone raining down around him as DarkTyrannomon cried out in agony, struggling to keep his balance as his spine was severed. He started to fall. Slowly, his left leg gave way, bending to the knee; but his right one still had a measure of strength. WarLeomon would have to fix that.

WarLeomon was still in the air. Time seemed to have slowed for him, as it always did when the killing rage overtook him. He drew back his hand – the one holding his knife and cast it forwards,

" Sword of Vengeance!"

The knife glowed with an intense inner light as black as the skull, it hurtled towards the falling DarkTyrannomon with a hellish scream of tortured metal. The poor Digimon never had a chance, still reeling from the first assault, he had no hope of moving in time to avoid the knife. The blade bit into his right calf, and the darkness exploded outwards a razor-sharp wave of power. DarkTyrannomon roared in anguished pain, black blood exploding from his severed limb and pooled under him even as his body collapsed, convulsing to the forest floor. This entire attack, from the screaming skull to the knife-strike, had taken less than a minute. In less than a minute, a powerful DarkTyrannomon in the prime of his life had lost control of his left leg and had his right one severed.

WarLeomon saw the blood spout from the wound and wished that he could be there, soaking in the rich liquid. He toyed with the idea of keeping the DarkTyrannomon alive but rejected it, he was falling now. He angled his descent and landed on DarkTyrannomon's head, the poor creature was gasping for breath as he fought to regain control of his pain-struck body. WarLeomon frowned. He had hoped that DarkTyrannomon would provide more sport than this – was this all that the pathetic wretch could manage? To just roll over and die?

With an angry roar, WarLeomon landed directly on DarkTyrannomon's skull. The Digimon struggled to rise, his lips peeling back in a snarl – futile, for even with his virus-idled mind, he would have to know what was coming next.

WarLeomon pulled back his fist as if to punch the dinosaur between the eyes, and roared, his words the final ones that DarkTyrannomon would ever hear, "Fist of the Dark King!"

Again, the screaming skull burst from his clenched fist, again it shot towards it's destination with no chance of missing, this time DarkTyrannomon could see it coming, for the split second that stood between it's eruption from WarLeomon's fist and it's striking upon DarkTyrannomon seemed like an eternity to the dinosaur-like Digimon.

It struck in a shower of blood, bone fragments and brain. WarLeomon laughed, feeling the rush as he was splattered with gore, his fur soaking it in. The body of DarkTyrannomon shuddered one last time and fell still, a motionless form of a dead giant. WarLeomon had time for one last leap, his mighty muscles carrying him clear from the corpse before it was gone, disintegrating as the data was disassembled and taken to form a new Digi-Egg that would one day hatch.

All too easy, mused WarLeomon. His strength was certainly growing rapidly. Soon DarkTyrannomon would be too weak for even this much of a challenge and he would have to move on to MetalTyrannomon.

But that was a thought for another day. It had been a fine – if short – hunt, and though his bloodlust was not quenched, there would be killing aplenty tomorrow. And they would be far stronger than a mere DarkTyrannomon. He could hardly wait.

Slowly, WarLeomon began the track back from the forest, his fur still soaked and matted with DarkTyrannomon's blood, his blade still dripping with gore. Yes, there would be much to do tomorrow. So much to do.


End file.
